The Tower's Magic ― Chapter One

Even from a distance, Margaret Howes found the school intimidating. A high wrought iron fence snaked eerily around a menacing stone building. Towers and turrets stretched high into the murky sky, flags hanging heavy and limp in the humid summer air. Where was her father when she needed him? How could he left her to this fate?

Margaret glanced over at her stepmother, riding beside her in the carriage, her brilliant blue eyes staring ahead as though her stepdaughter didn't exist. I might as well evaporate. She won't be seeing me again. No one will, thought Margaret despondently. She had been feeling very despondent as of late.

As soon as Margaret's father had finally died of his kidney failure, his second wife, Jasmine, was more than eager to be rid of Margaret. With the heir to the family fortune out of the way, Jasmine's own son would inherit the family property and a great deal of wealth.

Of course, there was no guarantee that Margaret wouldn't return, but the odds were not exactly in her favor. The vast majority of students sent to the Magic Academy were never seen or heard from again. 

Margaret already knew what people would say when she disappeared. At first her friends would think she had fallen ill. After a few weeks with no indication of her whereabouts, they would realize what must have become of her. Word would spread that she had been sent to magic school. It would be the new hot topic. 

People would, of course, wonder what she had done for her stepmother to send her there. Due to the number of children who vanished into the school, it was often used as a scapegoat, a way to quietly get rid of children who the parents didn't want involved in the inheritance or family business. It was expensive, but it was a way to slip unwanted children out of a person's life without losing too much face or drawing undesired attention.

Eventually, the subject would wear out, people would forget, and Margaret's memory would give way to everyday business and the latest fashion trends. That was how it had been for the other children who had inexplicably disappeared. Levi Simons, Eva May Page, the shy blonde girl who never spoke; people from Margaret's past flashed through her head in quick succession. 

"We're nearly there, darling, and about time, too. Make yourself presentable." Jasmine's eyes were glittering excitedly as the carriage rolled smoothly up to the gate. Margaret would never understand why Jasmine insisted on calling her "darling." Maybe it was simply because she knew how much she hated it.

A young footman in a deep blue uniform slipped through the building's door and walked out to meet the carriage. He seemed slightly familiar to Margaret, though she couldn't quite figure out why.

The footman helped Jasmine down from the carriage. Margaret refused his proffered hand and trudged out of the carriage on her own. He hefted Margaret's luggage into his arms and marched into the building without a word.

"No one here to greet us? Really? What poor manners. You would think the headmaster would at least send a teacher out to meet me." Jasmine seemed to have taken the footman's silence as a personal offense, and complained about the school's poor taste all the way to the door. Of course, she was used to being in the outer circle of the queen's affections, and expected the finest treatment.

As Margaret and her stepmother reached the door, the footman set Margaret's bag down and help up a hand.

"You, leave," he finally spoke to Jasmine. "Follow me," he said, looking at Margaret.

Margaret half expected Jasmine to argue, if only to put the servant in his place. To her surprise, Jasmine merely sniffed indignantly and marched back to the carriage. Jasmine was just as terrified of the wizards as everyone else. She would be eager to leave as soon as she could.

Margaret watched the carriage cruise away, her courage going with it. When she finally turned around, she saw the servant striding away down a grand foyer. She hustled after him as quickly as her dress would allow.

While still trying to keep an eye on the footman, Margaret tried to study the foyer. It had a high, vaulted ceiling, and the beams overhead were completely covered with intricate patterns and draped with colorful cloth. Despite the ornate decorations dedicated to the ceiling, the rest of the room was simple and bare. There were no decorations on the walls, and the floor was made from plain stone. Margaret would have expected marble or high-quality hardwood.

The servant lead Margaret down many long, winding corridors. The halls twisted up on themselves so much that after just a few minutes, Margaret was utterly lost.

They passed innumerable doors, but the servant was marching along so fast that she didn't get a good look at any of them. In front of a particularly ornate door, Margaret had paused to study the embellishments, and when she had turned back down the hall, she had to practically run to catch up with the servant. She counted herself lucky that she didn't like corsets. Surely she'd have long run  our of breath by now had she been wearing one.

As she trailed along after the servant, Margaret became increasingly scared. And angry.

Perhaps he's forgotten I'm even here? The footman hadn't so much as glanced at her since she had stepped out of the carriage.

"Would you mind telling me where we're going?" she asked, a slight edge to her voice. Her guide didn't answer.

After what seemed like an eternity, they finally arrived at a dark chamber, about the size of Margaret's old bedroom. In the center was what appeared to be pond, with a bluish light shining from the bottom.

Margaret stepped toward the pool, then whipped around when she heard the door slam shut behind her. The servant was gone.

"Wait!" she cried. As much as the man's silence had annoyed her, Margaret didn't want to be alone.

She rushed back to the door, only to find it locked. Panicking now, she turned back to face the pond. The bluish light shining through the water cast ripples of ever-shifting light onto the walls, giving the illusion that the room was underwater. The constant waving made Margaret dizzy, so she shut her eyes to steady herself. When she opened them again, she spotted something floating on the surface of the water. It looked like... a bird? A swan maybe? She couldn't tell.

She scanned the shadows along the walls. No one else appeared to be in the room. The water didn't look too deep. If she took her shoes off, she could probably wade in without getting her dress wet. She wouldn't have to go to far, just enough to get a closer look at the bird, or whatever it was.

Still nervous about getting caught, Margaret slipped out of her shoes and stockings, placing them by the water's edge. She would only take a few seconds, then come back, she decided.

She hoisted her skirts up as far as she could, and stepped carefully into the water, keeping a wary eye on the bird. As she waded into the pond, however, Margaret felt something icy grip her ankle and drag her toward the pool's center.

She lost her balance and fell into the water, thrashing desperately. The pool became deeper as her invisible assailant dragged her toward the middle, and soon she was drawn under the water. She held her breath as long as she could, before her vision went black.

- - - 

Margaret awoke with the sun in her eyes and her dress twisted and damp around her, as though she had been tossed unceremoniously on the floor. As her memories flooded back to her, she realized that that was a surprisingly reasonable possibility.

The room around her, a bedroom, was not the best reflection of her status, but it would do for the time being. Oh, come on, Marge! How can you think about something like that? At a time like this?

A boy sat in one corner of the room, fiddling with something in his hands. Margaret sat up and tried to sort herself out. The boy looked up. He was scrawny, with bony limbs and messily chopped hair. He looked to be about... 14, maybe?

Margaret wasn't sure what to ask first. Where was she? Who was this boy? What was she supposed to do? She decided to start with something polite.

"Might I ask your name?" she asked.

"Finally awake, princess? I was beginning to think you'd just lay there forever." The boy said, voice dripping sarcasm. It was then that Margaret realized that this was not a boy at all, that this child was, in fact, a girl. A very ugly girl. Margaret thought it best not to mention that.

"Er, well, yes. I'm Margaret. And who might you be?"

"What's it to you?"

"Well, I'd like to know."

"Too bad."

This girl's attitude was starting to get on Margaret's nerves. Just who did this child think she was?

Margaret tried again. "I think we got off on the wrong foot here. I'd like to know where I am."

"And I'd like a puppy, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna get one."

"What is your problem?" Margaret was usually very dignified, but she was tired and scared and angry, and this child was not even remotely helping!

"Shall I make you a list?" The girl was grinning now. "Let's see here. I'm sick of working for a bunch of ungrateful, blue-blooded brats, and here comes another one now. I've been in this god-forsaken school for hell knows how long now, and the only person I've seen in a week--"

"Shut up! Just- just shut up, alright? I'm tired, and I don't want to be here any more than you do. You're not going to keep bullying me when I've done nothing to you! Just shut up!" All of the day's rage burst from Margaret in a sudden torrent of words. She expected the girl to apologize, or at least stop smirking, but she only grinned more wildly.

"That's the spirit!" she said cheerily.

Margaret wanted to yell at her more for her cheek, but then she realized that the girl was right. This was the spirit. Margaret vowed silently to herself that no one was going to push her around. Not this girl, not the magicians, and certainly not Jasmine.

Screw everyone. Stay angry.